


Like A River Flows, Surely To the Sea

by captain_starcat



Series: Never Known the Like of This [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Illya's devastating competence, Napoleon's increasing hearteyes, Pre-Slash, but passes for gen, cameo by Illya's Ugly Glasses(tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 21:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16648409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_starcat/pseuds/captain_starcat
Summary: Agent Illya Kuryakin,Napoleon decides,is perfect.





	Like A River Flows, Surely To the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinTurtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinTurtle/gifts).



> For TinTurtle, who asked nicely when I was in a vulnerable state (tempted but undermotivated).
> 
> Title from the song Can't Help Falling In Love, popularized by Elvis, but everyone and their lowercase-uncle has a version. Unlike this fic's companion, where the song came before the story, here the song came in at the end, when I needed a title. But it's a relevant song! Series title from I've Just Seen A Face, by the Beatles, for the same reason.

_Agent Illya Kuryakin,_ Napoleon decides, _is perfect._

Look, it’s been two weeks now that Napoleon's been bushwhacking alone through the Central African jungle, since escaping the remote THRUSH base, and so far his only company has been the occasional THRUSH patrol he hides from (crouching silently in the underbrush, gun drawn) and the wildlife he hasn't stooped to talking to (yet). So when he gets close enough to the general area of Brazzaville that he can finally get a signal on the communicator, the voice of the on-duty comms girl (currently: Heather), tinny and full of static on the line, is absolute music to his ears.

Even better, Heather informs him that he's not far from a road, which leads to a village, where he will rendezvous with an UNCLE agent. As luck would have it, there was someone working in the wider area who could be diverted for a pickup. Waverly must have decided that the intel Napoleon's carrying is too important to wait the extra few days it will take for Napoleon to reach UNCLE Brazzaville. Napoleon doesn't mind getting the microdot off his hands, but mostly he's hoping the rendezvous agent might have some extra supplies for him. He'd kill for a change of clothes.

The first surprise, when Napoleon drags himself into the village over half a day later, is that they've sent Agent Illya Kuryakin. Napoleon hasn’t met Agent Kuryakin before, but he knows the UNCLE tall-tale-mongers work almost as hard on his behalf as they do on Napoleon’s, which is impressive. He's smaller than Napoleon expected, with pale, sweaty hair and bright blue eyes, electric with humor.

"Agent Solo, I presume?" Kuryakin asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking at his own joke, and Napoleon can't help but laugh. It's been a while. Laughing feels good.

The second surprise is that Agent Kuryakin _has_ brought Napoleon a clean set of clothes—along with an entire backpack full of supplies.

"My hero," Napoleon mock-swoons, fluttering his eyelashes outrageously. Kuryakin, looking like he's hiding a laugh, pulls something small and jingling out of a vest pocket and holds it out.

Apparently he’s managed to rustle up a beat-up old motorcycle for Napoleon as well, and casually hands over the keys, along with the pack containing everything else, as if these fabulous prizes are small potatoes.

“I’ve been there,” he says with a shrug when Napoleon tries to thank him.

Napoleon passes over the intel with a dose of the best charm he can muster, and Kuryakin roars away on his own rattletrap motorbike. Napoleon watches the retreating dust cloud longer than he should.

When he opens the backpack to thoroughly investigate his presents, Napoleon discovers, along with the glorious change of clothes, an entire first aid kit, a fresh supply of water purification tablets, a new bottle of combo sunscreen/bug spray, about a week's supply of field rations, and... a toothbrush. Embarrassingly, Napoleon almost does swoon at that last one. It's official now: Illya Kuryakin is Napoleon's favorite field agent in the whole world.

Back in New York, he chalks up the swooning to the simple mercies of a friendly face and a toothbrush after two weeks without either, but several months later, when Napoleon discovers he’ll be working with Agent Kuryakin again, he still finds himself looking forward to the mission eagerly.

 

He swans into the ambassador's soiree, making a proper entrance, and initially can't find Kuryakin, who's supposed to be his backup. He finally spots him several minutes later in a waiter's uniform, circulating with a plate of shrimp things. He’s wearing the most amusingly hideous pair of thick-framed glasses Napoleon has ever seen. Napoleon has to hide a snort.

Returning his attention to the Contessa's story, he makes a note to run into Kuryakin later and thank him for his consideration in the Congo.

But before he gets the chance, suddenly, there's a man standing on a table, peeling off a face prosthetic and yelling about THRUSH— and the bomb he's planted beneath the premises. As the room erupts into chaos, Napoleon catches Kuryakin's eye, and they bolt into action together. Napoleon doesn't even have to say a word. It's glorious.

Bomb defused and Kuryakin’s ugly glasses now disappeared somewhere, they chase the THRUSHie across rooftops and down alleys, Kuryakin at his side, at his back. Well, mostly at his front, actually. The man is nimble, and _fast_. It's unusual for Napoleon to feel like he's the one who needs to keep up.

The last blind alley deposits the two of them right into a trap, a circle of THRUSH goons ready to close in. Napoleon and Kuryakin do their own circling up, back-to-back, and have enough time to share looks that say _ugh, this_ and _here we go_ before the thugs rush in.

They fight _beautifully_ together. Kuryakin is tough, and feisty, and always seems to know exactly when to be right where Napoleon needs him. Napoleon does his best to hold their ground and return the favor, and is rewarded at least once, when he steps in with a perfectly-timed block, with a quick and genuine smile from the Soviet agent. Napoleon can't help but grin back.

It's a good fight, and not just because they make it out largely unscathed. As they limp their way triumphantly out of the alley, thugs down and a clean-up crew on the way, Napoleon slings an arm companionably around Kuryakin's shoulders. Kuryakin rolls his eyes, hiding a smile, and lets him. Napoleon can feel himself glowing.

 

When Napoleon gets back to New York, Waverly is waiting.

"Agent Solo! Good you're back. I trust Paris went well?"

"More or less, sir," Napoleon replies. He knows where this is heading, and for the first time in months, doesn't dread this conversation.

"It's time again to discuss your reticence to the Section Two partnership initiative. May I remind you, you are NOT exempt from this program. Now—have you decided on another agent you are willing to put up with, or will I have to keep assigning you new recruits at random?"

The Old Man gives him a stern look under his eyebrows. Napoleon winces, but rallies.

"Ah, well, actually, sir, I do have someone in mind..."

**Author's Note:**

> [Napoleon, unlike Illya, hasn't quite figured out this is a crush yet. Don't worry, it'll dawn on him eventually...]


End file.
